


Break the Chain

by witchmaidensworld



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Corvo is an assassin sent to kill Jessamine, F/M, I will accept no other storyline, Mute Corvo Attano, and I support mute Corvo, besides - Freeform, but fate has other plans, but it can definitely be read that way, how else to tag, its my definite belief corvo is emily's dad and jessamine's lover, not quite romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22056565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchmaidensworld/pseuds/witchmaidensworld
Summary: He knows if it is ever found by his employers, his masters, he will face death. He will be cast out and unclaimed, and those who find his body will know he had become the lowest of the low. But somehow, staring into her dark eyes, he sees something better. An opportunity, an understanding.
Relationships: Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Break the Chain

**Author's Note:**

> Making up a backstory for Corvo as a member of a league of assassins and his first real solo mission is to kill Jessamine. Things don't go as he planned.

Infiltrating a palace is easier than expected, easier than anyone prepared him for. He listens to the endless mantra of instructions relaying through his mind, spoken as if Master Didimus is still beside him, whispering the familiar words in his ear. 

For Corvo Attano, this is as simple as breathing. His motions are fluid as he leaps from roof to gable, sliding down to ledges and grasping window frames. Always moving, always out of sight.   
He learned long ago how to become a shadow. Now it is his time to learn to kill.

He has killed before, many times before. But not like this. This is real, he feels it sitting heavy beside his heart with every breath he takes. But failure is not an option, he knows this. He knows what will happen if he does not follow through, he has seen the evidence of failure before in the bodies swaying from city walls, unmarked and unclothed. Unclaimed. 

He will be nothing again. 

And so he prepares to add the name of Jessamine Kaldwin to his growing list of dead. 

He locates the window. It is only a simple flick of his wrist to have it open, thin blade inserted between the panels to unlatch and swing it outward, admitting him into the palace. He closes the window behind him. Master Didimus would be proud. 

The room he has entered is dark and empty, only the panels of moonlight on the floor from the window behind him. His shadow slips out of sight, leaving the reflection unbroken once more. There are no guards here, and he wonders what kind of people leave someone so important so poorly protected. He admits he hasn’t asked nearly enough questions about his target, but no one had bothered to point that out to him. It was his first act alone; perhaps they thought he was truly ready, or they were waiting to see him fail. 

He knew this Jessamine Kaldwin was only two years his junior, and he knew she was soon to be placed in a very powerful position for all of Dunwall. Oddly enough, the only other thing he could recall in his investigation into the young woman was her apparent love for oranges. Odd piece of information to grasp onto when he should have been concerned with the number of guards surrounding her, her skill with weapons, perhaps even finding out if she had an escape passage within her chambers. It is too late to ask these questions now, so Corvo Attano pushes forward. 

The hall is equally empty, he is surrounded by a series of grand doors of gleaming polished wood. The map in his head is complete. He turns to the door on his right and enters the chamber therein, slipping free the blade from the sheath under his sleeve. He has countless others on his person, perhaps more than he will ever need. It makes him feel more prepared, and no one had bothered to tell him otherwise. 

The room is large and quiet and dark. He moves swiftly through the haphazard maze of furniture; there a plush couch, here an easel with a table filled to the brim with paints and brushes heavily used. The moonlight adds a touch of silver magic to everything; perhaps when the act is done, he will stand and admire the wealth around him.

But for now his attention is on the grand four poster bed before him, curtains pushed open so the moonlight highlights the slim figure beneath the silk and satin coverlets. He stops directly by the bedside and just looks at her.

Jessamine Kaldwin, in a statement, is not what he expected. 

He had not properly thought of who he would find in his bed bearing that name, though he could have considered. He knew she would be young, he knew she would be youthful.

No one had prepared him to know she would be beautiful.

The moonlight highlighted the planes of her face perfectly; from her delicate cheekbones to the slightest upturn of her nose, Jessamine Kaldwin deserved to live in a portrait, perfectly painted to live forever in halls such as these. Her raven hair spilled across the pillows in swirls turned silver from the light, briefly overshadowed by his presence at her bedside. Her lashes fanned against her cheeks, and there was the barest of a dusting of freckles across her nose. 

She was a goddess, pale and frighteningly beautiful in the dark, and Corvo wondered how she would look in sunlight.

It would not matter. He lifted the blade, regarding the gleaming edge of the knife and briefly illuminating the runes inscribed into the metal in blue. It will be his first kill with this blade, the first time blood will run down its edge and to its hilt to cover his hand in crimson.

Be at peace, my sister. Know your death is never the end, for you will live on eternal in memory. Your life has meaning, your death has more. Be at peace, my sister, knowing you will never face this cruel world again.

He lifts the blade to the curve of her throat and freezes, tip barely pressing against her ivory skin, finding himself staring into fathomless dark eyes. 

“Well. You certainly took your time, didn’t you?” 

He makes a strangled sound, jerking back. No one had prepared him for her beauty, and especially no one had prepared him for the sound of her voice. Jessamine moved slowly, sitting up while the silk coverlet slipped down her bare arms. Her chemise was nearly translucent in the dark, thin ribbons holding it in place on her shoulders, and the front dipping down to sit dangerously low between her breasts. 

His breath catches in his throat, and he knows he has already failed. Perhaps there is still time to salvage this, to move forward and silence her forever before she can raise an alarm. His employers, his masters will never need to know. But he will, and he knows the failure of this will eat at him for the rest of his life.

All the while, he is watched. Her eyes are unreadable, lips held in a thin, firm line. She does not move, does not make a sound, sitting amongst the puddle of silk sheets in a perfect halo of silver light. And he stands in the darkness just beyond her reach. 

“You are hesitating.” 

She startles him again, and he clenches the knife harder in hand. Resolve hardens to frustration. Who is she to tell him what he does? 

He is atop her in an instant, hand closing around her throat with the tip of the blade in the delicate hollow of her collarbone, breath let out in a heavy exhale as she hits the bed flat once more. His knees press into her sides, straddling her. And oh god, he is aware of every curve of her body under his, making him ache in entirely new ways. 

She doesn’t speak again, though he thinks it has nothing to do with the pressure of his hand on her throat. Her dark eyes stare up at him, unblinking, focused. His shadow over her has taken away every silver hue of her lashes and freckles, drowning her out into darkness.

It is eternal.

He needs only to move the knife an inch, and he would watch her gasp and struggle as her life drains into her expensive bed sheets and coverings. Her dark eyes will fill with panic, perhaps she will even claw at him. It will be futile. It will be quick.

“Why?” 

He focuses again, eyes narrowing. He moves his hand from her throat and she sucks in a breath. He gestures, and watches her eyes fill with understanding. She places a hand on his chest, fingers splayed long and slender over the rough shirt and the edges of his jacket, the buckles of a harness underneath. She pushes, shifting to sit up while he moves back to make room for her. She lifts her hands and gestures back, elegant fingers and hands forming words to a language he has rarely seen. 

“I thought I was the only one,” he is finally able to say. “No one ever bothers to learn.”

“They’re fools,” comes her quick reply. “It is my duty to speak with all my people, in any manner they are comfortable with.” Then, the corners of her mouth lift in the briefest of smiles, and he watches it reflect in shades in her eyes. “Tell me your name.”

“Corvo Attano,” he says, this time more slowly. He realizes he let go of his knife, the blade half covered in the layers of her silk coverings. 

“And you came to kill me.”

“Yes.”

“...perhaps I could sway your mind. A man of your talents would be of much use to me as a protector, if you are willing.”

It’s irrational. He knows if it is ever found by his employers, his masters, he will face death. He will be cast out and unclaimed, and those who find his body will know he had become the lowest of the low. But somehow, staring into her dark eyes, he sees something better. An opportunity, an understanding. 

She’s willing to take a chance on an assassin, and she is hardly anyone yet. How much more could she do as empress, leader to all? He had held a knife to her throat, and she dared take a chance on him. 

He thinks, this is how my life ends.

But what if it is only the beginning? 

“Well?” 

Corvo Attano has been many things in his short life. Orphan, beggar, thief. Assassin. 

Now he thinks he can add a different title to that list. Staring at Jessamine, fearless woman, unconquerable empress already, he makes his choice. 

He takes the knife from where it lay and presses the latch; it folds back and is quickly hidden away for later use. Standing, Corvo holds out a single hand to her, and Jessamine takes it with a smile of finality.

“My life is yours, my empress.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have I played the games?
> 
> No.
> 
> Is this stopping me from allowing the characters to consume my soul?
> 
> Definitely not. 
> 
> Alternatively; I don't know enough about the deep lore of these games to know what Corvo's past was. I'm just making this up as I go xD


End file.
